


Rainbow Sherbet Road

by fishoutofcamelot



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Magic, Crack, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Ice Cream, Ice Cream Parlors, Immortality, Merlin Is An Idiot And a Bastard And I Love Him, Reincarnation, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, by far the most ridiculous thing ive ever written, i think im incapable of writing fluff without invoking feels, im just passionate about immortality okay, kind of a kid fic???, no beta we die like men, tasteless reference to outdated memes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 18:51:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20980694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishoutofcamelot/pseuds/fishoutofcamelot
Summary: “Did you really turn yourself into a kid to make a political statement, or is it just because kids eat free on Tuesdays?”





	Rainbow Sherbet Road

Arthur Drake has been alive for 24 years (54 if you count his time in Camelot). In his lifetime/s, he has become acutely aware of the darkness humanity has to offer. War, poverty, plague, conflict - the whole nine yards. He’s personally lived through home invasions, car accidents, and one time played as a hostage in a bank robbery. And that’s not even touching on all the war and combat he endured in the past life where he was, apparently, a mythical king.

So yes, Arthur would say he’s perfectly justified in being a little jaded. 

You would think that Merlin, who has inarguably faced more in 1500 years than Arthur has in 54, would be even _ more _ jaded. Or at least the slightest bit more intelligent.

You would be wrong.

For example, the time he got so excited about buying a puppy that his happiness caused his magic to go a bit haywire and smash all the windows in the pet shop. Or the time he lost the TV remote and thought the way to solve that was to buy a whole new TV - only to come home and find out the remote was on the coffee table all along. And _ then _ there’s the time he set loose a small horde of turtles onto Arthur’s college campus. 

Arthur actually has to take a bit of credit for that last one, just a bit, because he had mentioned his psych professor was obsessed about attendance and how you get penalized if you arrived to class after he did. And Arthur, on the day of a major test, was running late. So Merlin, may God give him a brain, came up with a bright idea to stall the professor by unleashing a swarm of magically conjured turtles upon the poor, unsuspecting university.

The bad news is, Arthur was _ also _stalled by the turtles. The good news is, classes were canceled that day.

It’s weird, though. Most of the time, Merlin doesn’t act like he’s immortal, or that he’s seen the rise and fall of civilizations. Most of the time, he acts like a reckless young man with way too much time on his hands.

In a way, he kind of is. Only instead, he’s a _ fifteen-hundred-year-old _man with too much time on his hands.

Merlin's eccentricities makes sense, Arthur could suppose. If you had all the time in the world to do nothing, you’d have to be pretty bored after a while. Combine that with the fact that his immortality has left him out of touch with the idea of consequences - and combine _ that _ with his already piss-poor self preservation skills - and you’ve got a recipe for one _ hella _unhinged wizard. 

Proof that Merlin ever lived as long as he has isn’t hard to find, if you know where to look: grainy, black-and-white photos on his mantle; a few medieval swords mounted on the walls; a magically preserved Camelot flag repurposed into a table runner (and didn’t _ that _set Arthur off on a heated speech about respecting national iconography). 

Everyone tries to be gentle with him about his past. World history is a dark place, made even darker by the realization that Merlin has lived to witness most of it. Knowing this, they all try to be sensitive talking about things like the Crusades and the Black Plague. 

But then Merlin will say something like, “Oh please, I was stung by serkets once, this is _ nothing _ ” or “No no no, _ this _is how you punch a Nazi. I’ve been specially trained for this.” And everyone will be left to wonder how he’s able to handle this so casually.

He does, however, get touchy about the Revolutionary War of all things. So much as mention the Boston Tea Party, and you’d better buckle in for a two-hour rant about...well, Arthur’s never really paid enough attention to know what it’s about. 

It’s been three years since Merlin broke into his dorm room (knocked one of the walls down, as a matter of fact) in the middle of the night and cast a spell on him to restore the memories from his past life. And then proceeded to fill his life with utter chaos.

Not that Arthur’s complaining, though. He’s an english major living in a quiet Portland suburb, where else will he get any excitement in his life? And oh god has his time with Merlin been exciting, almost absurdly so.

For example.

Arthur, Gwen, and Merlin were _ supposed _to meet up for ice cream before heading off to spend the rest of the night at Elyan’s place to play video games. But of course, Merlin always has to pull something stupid out his backside at the last minute.

Tonight, he’s decided to turn himself into a five-year-old. 

A literal five-year-old. As in, three feet tall, 40 pounds, with massive blue eyes and a frustratingly adorable countenance. His tufty black hair is as messy as ever, and he’s got a red-and-blue outfit that’s surprisingly sophisticated for children’s clothes.

The fact that Merlin, all-powerful wizard of legend Merlin, doesn’t even reach his waist, has Arthur doubled over laughing. Merlin scowls at this, which only gets him laughing harder.

“It’s just - you’re - oh my god -” he wheezes, clasping his knees as he tries and fails to regain his composure. Beside him, Gwen’s losing a similar battle. “- you’re so _ little _! I always knew you had the mind of a child, but don’t you think this goes a little too far?”

Merlin just sticks his tiny little button nose in the air with an indignant huff. “Clotpole,” he grumbles, but the voice is so high-pitched and immature that Arthur’s knees nearly give out as another wave of laughter overcomes him.

Gwen manages to regain some semblance of a composure, but cannot hide the amusement in her eyes. After two lifetimes of Merlin being the tallest of the three, the tables have finally turned. “M-Merlin,” she says between chuckles. “Why are you…”

“I have my reasons,” he says defiantly. A pair of stubby kid-arms cross over his chest. “For starters, I’m immortal. For me, age is nothing more than a social construct. Maybe I don’t want to restrict myself to the confines of linear time and mortal aging, so I choose to express myself as however old I please.”

“How progressive of you,” Gwen says with a snort.

Merlin places his tiny, tiny hands on his tiny, tiny hips. The sight makes Arthur laugh all over again.

“Well are you two going to just stand laughing at me all night, or are we going to get some ice cream? I’m starving.”

It takes another few minutes for Arthur to stop bursting out laughing every time he looks at Merlin. Once he’s calmed down, the three of them go from their rendezvous at the park and walk to the nearby ice cream shop, Scoops of Destiny. Oddly enough, it’s owned by a kind reincarnated couple named Alator and Finna who were some of Merlin’s allies back in the day. Small world.

It’s got a 50s-chic feel to it, with checkered floors and mint green walls and red bar stools pulled up to a shiny counter. There’s even an old jukebox in the corner, which gives Arthur some rather Mulaney-esque ideas. He won’t act on any of them, of course, because Gwen’s moral compass is too strong for that sort of thing, and Arthur has a healthy fear of her wrath. He _ was _married to her for four years, after all.

Merlin, on the other hand, is a bold little bastard who would probably use a hornet’s nest as a punching bag simply because he was bored. 

Well you can’t really blame him, can you? Those fifteen hundred years of isolation had to take their toll on his sanity _ somehow _.

That doesn’t stop Arthur from blaming him nonetheless. 

Alator and Finna aren’t in the shop today, just one of their high school part-timers. Holly, her name-tag says. She’s got bleach-blonde braids and blue eye shadow. Her thin lips pull into a smile as she turns down to look at Merlin. 

“Well hello there,” she greets with a smile, and it’s at this point that Arthur realizes people will probably think Merlin’s his kid or something. The moment he turns back into an adult, he’s going to get punched in the face several times for this. Gwen, the traitor, just finds this hilarious. 

“Can I have rainbow sor-bit in a bowl?” Merlin asks, hamming up the cute factor, because the way he mispronounced ‘sherbet’ is almost certainly deliberate. God, he's insufferable.

Holly the ice cream lady giggles at him. “You most certainly may.” She turns to look up at the little boy’s ‘parents’. “Anything for you two?”

There is nothing about this Arthur doesn’t despise. Well, no, he _ does _ enjoy the opportunity to mock his friend for taking his immaturity to the next level. But he can’t very well make fun of a little kid in front of people who think he’s _ actually _ a little kid. 

“Mm, can I have chocolate chip mint?” Gwen asks. “Eh, double scoop, if you don’t mind.”

“Certainly. And you, sir?”

Arthur wrangles in all the self-control he possesses _ not _ to slap that victorious smirk off Merlin’s face. “Cookie dough,” he says, keeping his tone flat enough to keep his frustrations in check, but meaningful enough for Merlin to understand that his actions today _ will _have consequences. Merlin, for his part, doesn’t seem to care. 

“One or two scoops?”

“Two - and, and a waffle cone.”

Holly doles out their ice cream and hands it to all of them, then rings up their price. $12.60 total.

"We'll split it three ways like we planned, right?" Arthur confirms as he pulls out his wallet. 

"So we each pay $4.20, then," Gwen agrees. Just as she pulls out a wallet of her own, Holly clears her throat with a slightly affronted look.

"Er - are you going to make your...child..._pay_?"

Merlin smiles innocently at him.

That _bastard_. 

He - he conned them into paying for his ice cream!

"Oh, he's not ours," Gwen says smoothly, and Arthur's a tad bit concerned by the effortlessness of the lie. She must be spending too much time with Merlin. "We're looking after him for a friend. This is, er, Mark."

Merlin - newly dubbed Mark, apparently - gives the most sickeningly sweet smile Arthur has ever seen. And having grown up with Morgana _twice_, he's seen more than his fair share of them. 

She ruffles his hair, and he beams childishly at her, and Arthur internally curses the both of them to whatever corner of hell that traitors go. 

But even with his two best friends stacked against him, Arthur _refuses _to let Merlin win this round.

So, he displays a saccharine grin of his own, scoops Merlin up by the waist, and holds him up like a trophy. He weighs next to nothing, comparable to that of a Styrofoam cup, and Arthur makes a mental note to mock him for it later. Merlin, understandably, squirms in his grasp as Arthur jeers, "_Mark _just _loves _spending time with his favourite babysitters, doesn't he?"

Merlin's scowl, though adorable enough to leave Gwen cooing in delight, is just bitter enough to give Arthur the vindication he needs to survive this ordeal without the help of alcohol.

But then, Merlin dials up the cute factor to eleven. "Yeah! Uncle Artie is my favouritest person in the whole world!"

Any residual suspicion Holly may have held towards them is gone - but so are Arthur's last vestiges of _hope _and _dignity_. Why is he friends with this wretched idiot again? 

In the end, Arthur and Gwen wind up paying $6.30 each. Merlin at least has the decency to be unhappy about hanging off Arthur's arm like a towel - although his ability to keep his ice cream steady during this is remarkable. Or magic, perhaps, because Merlin is prone to cheating like that. 

Gwen goes ahead and scouts out some seats for them, while Merlin uses his magic to give Arthur's bicep a little static zap, forcing him to reflexively set Merlin loose. 

"You just did that to humiliate me," Merlin accuses.

"If you're a kid, you'll get treated like one," Arthur says with a shrug.

Narrowing his eyes, Merlin sits down across from Gwen at the window-side booth she's selected. "Picking me up was totally uncalled for, you massive arse."

Arthur just shrugs again, not dignifying Merlin's claim with a response. He slides into the booth seat next to Gwen. 

Gwen chuckles. “So, are you enjoying your _ sor-bit_?”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “I was playing the part, Gwen. Trust me, I’ve had practice with this.”

“Turning into a child or acting?” Gwen asks, equal parts intrigued and amused.

Merlin shrugs. “Both, I suppose. I don’t age regress often, but it has come in handy a few times. As for acting, I _ did _ attend a few semesters at Julliard. A-and anyways, the life I lead sort of _requires_ me to be good at lying.”

“Nothing changed there, then,” Arthur says with a snort. He may have forgiven Merlin for lying to him all through Camelot, but he’s still bitter about it.

At this, Merlin’s formerly conniving grin softens into something of remorse and grief, and he turns back to his ice cream without a word. 

Alright, for once Arthur will admit he was a bit too harsh on Merlin. It’s not like he ever enjoyed lying - he was just trying to survive in a dangerous world. Just as Arthur had been raised not to trust people with magic, Merlin had been raised not to trust people in general. The centuries of loneliness and hiding probably didn’t help much.

Arthur reaches over and ruffled Merlin’s hair as a wordless apology. Merlin’s forgiveness comes in the form of a cheeky, youthful grin.

“I have a question,” Gwen says. She’s got a knowing, clever look on her face. The kind of look she wears when Merlin’s done something stupid but loyally refuses to tell Arthur what it is. She leans in conspiratorially. “Did you _ really _turn yourself into a kid to make a political statement, or is it just because kids eat free on Tuesdays?”

Wait. What?

Merlin’s face turns red and he averts his gaze, mumbling something incoherent but probably indignant under his breath. “So what if I did? If anything you should be thanking me. If I eat free, that’s less money you have to pay.”

"Doesn't change the fact that you scammed us for ice cream in the first place," Arthur says.

Merlin arms himself with one of those cute little kiddie smiles again. “But Uncle Artie, don’t you want to be nice to your _ bestest friend _and treat him to a little ice cweam?”

Gwen raises her eyebrow. “Ice cweam?”

Apparently that slip into child-speak wasn’t intentional, because Merlin’s face has turned bright red again and he’s refusing to make eye contact. “Th-the aging spell isn’t perfect,” he splutters, but no amount of explanations can ever hope to quell Arthur’s hysterical laughter. 

Arthur laughs so loud, in fact, that it even draws the attention of Holly and a few patrons. A tiny booted foot kicks his shin under the table, using a lot more force than a foot that small has any right to have. The pain manages to cut off his laughter rather effectively, and Merlin’s face is lit with nothing short of pure vindication.

Even Gwen, the mature one, is wiping tears from her eyes. “I hate to laugh, but this _ is _pretty funny.”

“Maybe I’ll turn the both of _ you _ into children next time,” he says. “See who’s laughing then.”

“You literally did this to yourself, Merlin,” Arthur insists. He takes a bit out of his waffle cone. “You’ve got no one but yourself to blame.”

“No, blame Gwaine,” Merlin says, and grumbles out a few choice curse words that would shock anyone to hear from such a small person. “Calling me an ‘old man’. I’m not old, _ he’s _old. A-and he should know that it’s rude to ask a wizard about his age!”

Oh god. Did Merlin seriously go through all this trouble...because Gwaine made him self-conscious about his age?

Just when Arthur thinks his best friend couldn’t get any more ridiculous, he goes and does something like _ this _. Well, at least it keeps Arthur on his toes.

“Well you _ are _old,” Gwen teases.

“Sure, but then he started making fun of me for not getting all these references and…” He frowns, but due to the current age of his face it looks more like a pout. “...memes? Is that what they’re called?”

Arthur laughs, causing Merlin’s pout to deepen, and Gwen struggles to hide her humour behind a mask of reproach. For some reason, the idea of Merlin being one of those baby-boomer types who are confused by all this ‘new-fangled tech’ - well, considering how Merlin used to be _ younger _than him back in Camelot, the idea is just downright hilarious. 

Ah, the _ fun _he could have with this...

“Don’t you dare, Arthur Drake,” Gwen warns, and the half-mirthful contempt on her face reveals that she’s fully aware of what he’s planning.

“I’m totally gonna show him Fortnite dances,” Arthur says with a grin.

Merlin gives him a quizzical look, which only makes Arthur’s heart soar.

“Don’t you _ dare _,” Gwen repeats, eyes narrowing. “Just show him something simple, like - I dunno, loss.jpg, o-or Tumblr absurdism, or Nyan Cat, or something.”

Arthur shakes his head. “_ Nyan Cat _ , Gwen? _ Nyan Cat _? What is this, 2009?”

“I’m sorry, but what is Nyan Cat?” Merlin interjects. They both ignore him.

“He’s new to this,” Gwen says. “You have to start him off simple.”

“It’s better than how Gwaine would handle this. He’d just show him Urban Dictionary and set him loose.”

Gwen huffs. “Yes, well, Gwaine was never an option in the first place. And at any rate, why does he _ need _to know about internet memes?”

“Well why not?”

“It’s - more of a thing for _ our _generation, you know?”

“Exactly, Gwen! He wasn’t raised up on them like we were, he needs to be informed! If not so he can understand certain social situations, but also to blend in with the modern populace!”

“Guys,” Merlin tries to say, but yet again his tiny child-voice is lost under the rush of volume from his physically older friends. He spoon-stabs his ice cream in frustration. “Guys!”

Sheepishly, Arthur and Gwen turn to face him.

“Can we just - can we drop it? Please?” Merlin sourly shoves a spoonful of sherbet into his mouth. “Let’s just talk about something else.”

Merlin’s got the exasperated tone he gets whenever he has to mediate a fight between Arthur and Gwen. But - but they weren’t fighting, not like they’ve done in the past. In fact, the discussion wasn’t even remotely heated. Just a casual debate between friends. Just teasing and messing around. This isn’t new to Merlin. In fact, 'teasing and messing around' is practically his entire identity. So why is he so upset about this? 

Arthur ignores the gut-feeling that there’s something more to this, and convinces himself that it’s just Merlin’s little-kid-body making him emotional. 

Gwen, however, is a bit more adept at reading through the lines. Her eyes fill with sympathy. She’s caught onto something Arthur hasn’t. “Oh, _Merlin_.”

Merlin, who hates pity even more than he did 1500 years ago, flusters under the weight of her saddened gaze. “I-it’s fine, Gwen.”

Peh. Semesters at Julliard his arse. That idiot still can’t lie - let alone _ act _ \- to save his life (never mind that he did just that for ten years in Camelot). Merlin is so obviously _ lying _ , he is so obviously _ not _fine, and even a brain-dead coma patient could see through his pathetic excuse for a facade.

The only questions are: what is Merlin lying about, and _ why_ ?

Well, you can’t say Merlin is _ terrible _at lying. He’s quite good at it, actually. Scarily good. It’s just that he gets a bit rough around the edges when it comes to lying about his emotions, specifically. He always did wear his heart on his sleeve, and Arthur is comforted by the fact that some things never change.

So there _ is _something more to this than Merlin just being grumpy about his age. And whatever it is, Gwen’s figured it out.

“That’s a load of BS if I ever heard it,” Arthur says scrutinizingly. “What’s wrong, Merlin? You promised you wouldn’t keep any more secrets.”

Merlin sighs in defeat. He always takes his promise seriously, and it’s a serious matter if Arthur feels the need to invoke it. 

“Arthur -” Gwen tries to protest, maybe to protect her friend’s privacy, but Merlin has already given in.

“No, he’s right, Gwen,” he relents. “I ought to cut the crap eventually. You two don't deserve more lies.:"

Considering how tiny and youthful Merlin’s voice is right now, it’s no small miracle that Arthur’s able to keep a straight face during what _ should _ be a straight-face kind of conversation.

With a sigh, Merlin continues. “It’s just...you all got to be reincarnated, you know? But I was stuck here, on Earth. Alone.”

Arthur furrows his brow, ice cream abandoned. It isn’t like Merlin to be so morose about his immortality. 

He heaves his tiny chest into a high-pitched sigh. “And I’ve made my peace with that, sure. I’ve had a _ long _time to come to terms with my condition. That’s not the problem.”

“So what is?” Arthur asks, and it’s only now that he notices the trail of melted ice cream dribbling down his thumb. He makes a quick rush to wipe it off, and licks some of the melt away before honing back to Merlin’s young, vulnerable face.

Merlin digs around his ice cream with his spoon a bit, but doesn’t actually eat any of it. Heart-to-hearts like this always have a way of ruining your appetite. “Do you remember the medieval era, Arthur? Like, not your idealized memories of it, but what it was actually like.”

Well, the history books always talk about how the Dark Ages were gross and barbaric, but Arthur remembers Camelot being a great deal more civilized than that. So what's the -

Oh.

_ Oh _.

Even though Arthur finally understands the true motivation behind his friend’s impromptu age magic, he lets Merlin explain it nonetheless. After all, it’s a rare treat for that annoying warlock to share his feelings with anyone other than Gaius.

“I grew up in a small hut,” Merlin said. “No bed, no running water, no electricity, no bathroom. People died of disease left and right. The whole affair was just as...unhygienic...as historians lead you to believe. Scarcely enough food on the table, so we often starved. Ever since I could keep my magic under control and was old enough to hold a shovel, I was put to work in the fields. And that’s before you account for all the anti-magic prejudice I had clamoring in my ears.” 

Arthur shifts his weight, unsure of what to say. Looking back at his own first-life childhood, his only complaints have to be the lack of toilets, democracy, and internet. But then again, Arthur grew up as a posh and pampered prince. Where Arthur had everything he wanted at beck and call, Merlin had to suffer and struggle in that cold, wet shack he had once called home. 

This had been the norm for peasants, and if the conditions humbled him then, they horrified him now.

“I just…” Merlin stammers, wringing his pudgy little toddler-hands. “...I know I should be grateful. My childhood could have been a lot worse. But I can’t help but be a little -” He blushes, embarrassed. “- _ jealous _, I guess, that you all got the chance to start over. You were reborn in a nicer, happier century. You all got the chance to relax and be kids. Go to school, play games, goof off. And not to sound ungrateful, but I - I sometimes I wish I could have the chance to do that kind of stuff too.”

Gwen rests one of her smooth, dainty hands on top of Merlin’s in a comforting gesture. He smiles at her. 

“I know it’s stupid of me,” Merlin concedes. “And immature. But I just - just for a while, I wanted to know what it’s like to be a kid. To go and get ice cream with your friends, or have a picnic at the park, go have a sleep-in or slumber-over or whatever it's called. Hell, for all that you guys complain about it, I even want to go to _ school _. I just wanted to...you know, be a kid. Just for a day.”

It’s hard to forget that Merlin is immortal. He regales them with tales of him and William Shakespeare sharing a bed. Every year on D-Day he gets all somber and withdrawn, and Arthur makes sure to sit by him as he goes through old photos. He can’t watch historical dramas without getting raucously offended by inaccuracies. Every once in a while they’ll watch black-and-white films and spot him as one of the extras. He and Leon get into heated arguments about different renaissance artists (Merlin will insist to his undying breath that Leonardo da Vinci was gay). He sleep-talks in Old English.

So yes, it’s not difficult to wrap his mind around the fact that Merlin is older than a bag of dirt.

He knows that Merlin is 1500 years old. He knows that Merlin was born and raised in medieval times. Arthur gets that.

But never before has Arthur sat down and really _ thought _about what that means. Arthur never thought about just how fortunate he is to be reincarnated, knowing that the alternative - the alternative that Merlin’s currently forced to live through - is much, much worse. Not only was Arthur spared centuries of isolation, forced to watch his loved ones die, but he was also given the chance to have a new, innocent, happy life. 

Never before has Arthur realized that not only is Merlin an immortal sorcerer, but he’s from _ another era altogether. _

But for all that he’s never thought about or noticed, for all that Arthur is just as oblivious as Merlin claims, he also knows that look in Merlin’s eyes. The look that says he doesn’t want to talk about this, or be the center of attention, or receive pity. Merlin doesn’t want to make a big deal out of his pain, and Arthur respects that.

So Arthur cracks a joke, as he knows Merlin would have done for him if the roles were reversed. “Merlin, you idiot. If you wanna be a kid, you need only ask. I know a _ great _day-care we could send you.”

Merlin bats his hand away. “Speaking from experience, oh Once and Future Toddler?”

“Oi! Which of us has the college degree?”

Merlin’s eyes sparkle with mischief, and Arthur’s heart stops pounding because Merlin’s finally smiling again. The world feels like it’s been thrown out of balance when he’s not smiling. “Arhur, I have _ several . _Get on my level."

“Oh really,” Arthur challenges. “List them off, then.”

“_And_ the colleges you bought them from,” Gwen adds with a tinkling laugh, seeming to have caught onto Arthur’s plan of lightening the mood. She would much prefer they have a therapeutic chat about Merlin's centuries-old emotional baggage instead of joking around, but is content to see that her little friend is cheering up.

Merlin scoffs, offended. “Bought?! You think I _bought _me degrees?! You dare insinuate that I would _buy _my way through college?! I didn’t spend _three years_ on a dissertation about _fungal life cycles_ for you to attack me like this!”

At his elevated volume, Holly and a few of the other customers turn their heads toward him, to which he blushes and ducks his head. Merlin shoves more ice cream into his face as a means of shutting himself up.

“Some actor you are,” Arthur chuckles. Then, in a mock-childish voice, he says, “_Oo-woo, I’m so speciaw, I took a few semestews at Ju-wee-awd._”

Merlin uses his spoon to flick a bit of sherbet at the ex-king’s nose. “Shut up, cwotpowe."

Arthur and Gwen laugh at his slip-up.

**Author's Note:**

> I have an essay due tomorrow morning, and yet here I am at 8PM with barely two paragraphs of it done. Procrastination will be the death of me (or at least my grades).
> 
> I had intended for this to be a cutesy little fluff thing, but I should have realized by now that I'm incapable of writing anything that isn't at least slightly sad. So here you go. My first - failed - attempt at writing fluff. 
> 
> Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go make sure I don't fail English.


End file.
